The First Violet Of The Spring
by the Unrequited Lover
Summary: The Picture of Dorian Gray Violet is a servant for Lord Henry, and while serving she comes across Dorian Gray. Sometimes certain people are unavoidable...
1. Violet of the Autumn

_Disclaimer: Dorian Gray belongs to Oscar Wilde, and anyone who says otherwise is on drugs._

_Author's note: This is a slightly fangirlish piece, but it goes along with a lot of my stories in the theme. I'm investigating not those who are corrupt and like to corrupt others, but rather, those they corrupt. This takes place during the book, and it's all made up in my own mind. Wilde never really goes into detail about what Dorian does, but we know that he slowly drags people down. In the story, Victoria gets a new servant-girl named Violet (basically I'm going after the much-forgotten women of the story). _

It was an unusual autumn. The apples, when they grew, seemed sourer than average, and not as large. The birds seldom sang anymore; the closest one got to birdsound was the laughter of Victoria that fine morning out in the park. The air was crisp and cool and the gray sky held all the promise of a light shower. Indeed, young Violet Larousse could have sworn that it was going to rain later in the day, but then again, if she had her way it would have rained every day like that. It was always easier when it rained, because the Lady and Lord were not quite so interested in going out. Or at least, that's how it usually was. In this case things were quite different. Lady Wotton was not like any of the other women she'd served, not even the eccentric Countess What's-her-name she'd worked for those two years ago. And her husband was even more of a puzzle. Victoria always went out when it rained. She loved the rain, and would often coo- well, not coo; she didn't have a voice for cooing, but she could make a sound something similar- about the prism of colour left on the window after a splattering of raindrops had fallen onto it. Many of the older maids who'd been with her longer were of the opinion that she went out because Lord Wotton went out. They weren't lying about him going out, it seemed that he was always going somewhere or another. It was somewhat sad for Victoria, however; the woman never seemed to be quite enough to hold his attention, and eventually grew to live without it. She would meet other men, and simply worship them for a spell, before another caught her fancy. Lord Wotton seemed to know but not to care; Violet found that shocking.

"Miss Larousse!" came a woman's voice, sort of shrill, from behind her. Violet spun around, her eyes wide and wild. The corner of her lips twitched into a sort of befuddled smile as she walked over to the speaker, Lady Wotton.

"Yes, Madam?" she asked with a small curtsy. The woman smiled a bit at her, her mouth not seeming to stay still, her lips moving a bit as she contemplated what to say, holding in her hands a book that she did not read, but opened and touched the pages only.

"Do be a dear and fetch me my coat," she said, gesturing over towards a bench some ways away where her coat had been left. Violet inclined her head and went to get it, still listening to the woman as she spoke.

"There's a chill in the air," she went on, twittering like a bird, looking up at the cloudy sky. She did not seem to notice whether Violet heard her or not. "It's just a bit nippy, ain't it, Violet?"

"Oh, yes, Madam," the servant girl agreed, "just a bit." Victoria laughed a bit, a small nervous laugh that came from her thin lips often, if not for very long.

"Oh, thank you," she said as the girl helped her into her coat. "It's quite lovely out here, don't you think so?"

Violet nodded. "Oh, yes." She glanced at the open book in her hands. The woman did not seem to be reading it. "Is that a nice book, Madam?" she asked.

Victoria looked at it, then laughed again, her bright blue eyes meeting Violet's gaze. "Oh, I'm sure it's a fine book. Of course, I have never read it, nor do I intend to, but I'm quite sure that it's a splendid book. After all, it's bound so handsomely."

"Indeed?"

"Yes, yes, it is. And the font is so lovely."

Violet nodded, then shivered as a wind blew through the park. There was a silence as the servant and the mistress both thought of the cold. Another of Victoria's birdsong laughs met Violet's ears.

"It's rather cold out here, Violet, don't you think? Shall we go back now?" she asked, looking at the young servant girl, who nodded quickly.

"Very well, then, we really must be going, I have to get dressed for my party to-night. You know, I invited that charming Mr. Gray to it, he does say he'll be going. Don't you hope he'll come?"

It was a rhetorical question and Violet knew to merely nod. What the woman meant to say was 'I hope he'll come', but she always seemed to assume her views belonged to everyone else. It was something she and Lord Henry differed in- he never expected anyone to agree with him, it seemed, and so many disagreed that it would have been foolish for him to hope for that. Yet, there were some who agreed with him, and they always gave up their own views for his. Violet had learned that from her observations, and thought it a silly thing, but it was not her place to say so. It was so very puppet-like, though, to let someone else change you like that. She just wished everyone else knew it, too.

"Shall we go, Lady?"

"Of course we shall, dear girl, come…" Violet helped her to stand, taking the book and accompanying her to the carriage. When the carriage had begun to move, Victoria turned to Violet with a smile.

"Will you stay to serve us, Violet? I know that you're new in the household, but I do trust you more than the rest of the maids. You're so young, that's why- young people are always the most charming in the world. It's impossible not to trust them." The woman's eyes had strayed out the window, looking at the sky again. Violet watched politely, the movement of the carriage making it difficult for her to focus on things in her mind or to concentrate. When Victoria looked back at her, she smiled and nodded. Victoria seemed pleased enough by her consent, at any rate.

**To be continued.**


	2. Violet of the Spring

_Disclaimer: Dorian Gray belongs to Oscar Wilde. If he didn't, he would be tedious to read about and would not be in any story of mine._

Violet sucked on the tip of the quill, intent on what she was doing, before words came to her mind. Slowly, she dipped it into the inkwell and put the tip to the scrap of parchment carefully before she began to write.

_Dear Mother,_

_It looks like I'm doing well with the job here. Lady Henry is a lovely woman, even if she's a bit silly at times, and from what I've seen of him, Lord Henry is all right. He doesn't show up much. Lady Henry loves parties, but she loves the people who attend them even more. She invites people from everywhere, it seems, especially foreigners. She's having a party to-night, and I'm to serve at it. I think that this means something good. I hope it does. When I've earned the money to, I'll come for you, and we can live together again and you won't ever have to work, I'll get all the money for you._

_Love, Violet_

She looked the note over carefully for mistakes in spelling and grammar, and finding none, she shrugged her shoulders lightly and folded it up, placing it in a book she owned. Then she stood and brushed her skirt off. She didn't have very much idle time, at least not before any of the parties, so she had been lucky to write the letter when she did. With a small sigh, she left the room and rushed out into the hallway, almost colliding with Lady Henry herself.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Madam," she said, curtsying deeply as she edged away from her. "I was in such a hurry…"

"Violet!" Victoria cried, blinking a few times. "It's such a good thing that you're here- Mr. Dorian Gray is here, could you meet him and lead him to the table?"

Violet barely had time to curtsy, so instead she ducked in a sort of informal bow as two other servants went past her in the hallway, carrying something that would have hit her in the head. When they'd gone, she'd already turned and dashed down the hallway to the entrance room.

She'd never before met Mr. Gray, nor seen him in person, but she'd surely seen photographs of him. Lord Henry had quite a few of them, although she wasn't sure, as she had never looked at all of them- she hadn't had the time- how many there were. Lady Henry said something about there being 17 at one point. Violet wasn't sure that was entirely proper, for a man to have that many photographs of another, but she would hold her tongue, like any other maid.

She came into the room to find Lord Henry speaking with a young man in evening dress. She knew who it was, and stepping forward, she asked, lowering her eyes, "May I take your coat, Mr. Gray?"

The young man turned to look at her, still looking quite thoughtful from whatever Lord Henry must have said (she'd been told that the man liked to talk quite often). "Of course, Miss…. you're a new servant?"

She nodded as she helped him out of his coat. Lady Henry walked into the room- Violet could see her out of the corner of her eye, looking as though she were unraveling at her seams.

"Oh! You've come, I'm delighted to see that- and Harry, I'm delighted to see you, as well. We don't often have dinner together, do we?"

"No, my love, we simply have such busy lives," said Lord Henry, his eyes moving up to look at his wife with a bemused expression.

"Ah! Violet, dear, you just hang that up, then," Lady Henry said as she looked upon the servant girl, who complied.

"Violet, is that her name?" asked Dorian listlessly as the two men headed to the dining room. "How charming! I'm reminded of the old belief that says, if you gather the first violet of the spring, you'll have your fondest wish granted to you."

"Mr. Gray, it's autumn," Lady Henry said, giving a small laugh.

"It's the springtime of his life, my dear," reminded her husband, and after that their voices faded from Violet's ears. Grumbling and with a sullen expression she hung up the coat, although her intentions were good enough. Maids are always grumbling about things the moment the master's back is turned. Violet turned away from there and went to the dining room, replacing her expression with one of a sweet-tempered servant whose only wish was to serve, and be helpful. That was what she was, wasn't it?

Pushing a stray dark hair behind her ear, she walked into the dining room, then curtsied. "Madam?"

"Ah, yes, could you bring the salad in?"

And so that was what it was and how it went. She was busy helping the guests to their seats- many others came, but she didn't remember any of their names, aside from Mister Gray. There was something about him that made you unable to forget him. Finally everyone had found himself or herself a seat and had enough on their plates to be content, and Violet was able to simply stand beside the doorway, if she were to be needed.

"You haven't been around London as of late, dear Dorian," remarked Lord Henry, reaching for a dish beside his plate lazily. "I don't suppose you intend to explain?"

Dorian Gray smiled benignly at the elder man. "Ah, that, Harry, I am afraid I can not explain. A man is nothing if not a mystery."

Her master nodded. "Yes; you are right. Very well, if you will not tell me that, then perhaps you shall tell me what brought you back?"

"Merely my love of England, Harry. I cannot bear to be away from her for too long. I miss her, I miss the people, even the society that made them."

Victoria spoke then. "Do you not mean the society they made, Mr. Gray?"

"Dorian was right to word it as he did, Victoria," rebuked her husband gently, his gracious lips smiling with mild amusement at some joke, some folly that only his eyes could see. "Society is religion to the civilized, in reverse. Rather than God creating the people, the people have created their God, and that is good society. There is nothing else quite like it."

"Thankfully," muttered a man who sat in the shadow, crooked with age.

"Nonsense!" cried one of Victoria's lady friends, fanning herself lightly and watching Lord Henry with a bothered expression. "Society is nothing like God, so they cannot be classified together in such a manner."

Violet noticed some other maids in the room let their eyes glaze over in boredom, but Violet herself was interested. She did not mind listening to scandal, although it was what the others thrived upon, but she preferred the dinner conversations, provided there were decent people speaking. And indecent people as well; there wasn't anything better than that sort of mixed company.

Lord Henry watched the woman, his eyes holding the same smile. It was fascinating to look at him, Violet thought to herself. He seemed like a rare wine to her, sparkling white wine, clear and yet totally intoxicating, completely obscuring the senses but managing to make them all the more obvious as well. She wished deeply to have been a guest at the party rather than just a silly maid, so that she could sit back in her chair, tilt her head, and watch him with her own eyes as he spoke, perhaps speaking on occasion. Instead, she bit her lip to hold back a yawn (honestly, did these wealthy people think there was nothing better in the world than serving them?) and tried to look like she was paying no attention.

Lord Henry, meanwhile, had raised his dark eyebrows slightly. "My dear woman, of course society is like God. They have everything in the world to do with one another. As society governs people's souls, God shall govern their senses."

"I believe it's meant to be the other way around," said a young man from Dorian's right, sipping from his glass.

"Life does not care about what is meant to be, only what may be," rejoined Dorian in a manner that Violet frowned at. It seemed disturbingly like Lord Henry's own, but in a slightly more dangerous manner, as though he knew more about what he spoke of than the older man, and that was the reason he said less. Anyone can talk, unless they've already seen things. Dorian didn't look like he'd seen anything in the world but freshly cut flowers, and all those that wilted or lost petals or shriveled up were removed from the world during the night while he slept so that he may not feel any sorrow at loss, of anything. His eyes were so blue as to shame topaz, with all its splendor, and make Nature herself with to refurnish the sky. Layers of other shades danced behind those delicate eyelashes, and Violet found a smile curve her lips splendidly before she regained her composure. She had to remember—if she was fired, if she failed to get money for her mother, then all was lost!

"Well said, again, Dorian," murmured Lord Henry, with steepled fingers as he thought. There was a moment- a long, long moment- of silence, before Victoria cleared her throat, then let out a shrill laugh and said, brushing back her straw-blonde hair with nervous fingers, so unlike her husband's unhurried hands, "Shall we clear the table for desert, then?" and she looked over at Violet with a smile like that of a young flower girl at a wedding, small and slightly sad, and Violet waved her hands at some other maids and rushed to the table, to clear it off. When a few other servants brought out the desert- a large tiered cake that had been an absolute pain to make and a horror in the kitchen, talked of with great annoyance and in a soft whisper, like some great beast that was terrorizing the servants- Violet took up the terrible task of serving it, with great care and concentration. It seemed to her that it would topple over any moment, a fear that increased as Violet continued to serve the guests. By the time she got to the last one- the young man sitting beside Mr. Gray- she was feeling very rushed. The cake seemed to lean over and leer at her, preparing to take a leap off the cart and make a mess of the young man, splattering his youthful face with frosting and strawberries. She managed to get it served somehow, though, although she wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was because she didn't want to make a fool of herself in front of such well-to-do people. And at least everyone liked it, she noted with some small satisfaction as it was eaten. When it had been finished, the other servants began to clear the table as the guests headed into the living room, for music, and talk, and cigarettes. Lady Henry caught her eye and motioned for her to leave, and she did so, with a small sigh of disappointment.

As Violet left the room, she heard a sound coming from the living room piano. Turning her head in that direction, she caught sight of the great instrument, and saw that there were slender fingers upon it. Gold ensnared her vision, frail golden curls. It was being played by Mr. Dorian Gray. The sound of the piano was sweet and soothing, and Violet would again have liked to be a guest, and to sit around the piano like the others and gaze upon the young man's lovely face while he played, but that was not in her power to decide. Only God had that power, she had been told, and he had decided for her long ago, although why that was, she could not know. All she did know was that it seemed horribly unfair and unreasonable that the luxuries of the world belonged to people who did not realize what they had, and did not care for it, and wasted it, insisted they were unhappy, when there were people who would have taken their place any day instead of rot and die restless. Violet felt betrayed in a manner, although by whom she did not know. The girl crept up into the maid's room, and took her paper from her book. She meant to put it into an envelope and send it to her mother, but found she could not write out the address. It seemed barely beyond recall. All that went through her head was the soft sound of piano music played by Narcissus himself, and Violet had to lie down for the dizziness in her head. She did not fall asleep though. She merely shut her eyes and watched the shadows pass over from beneath her eyelids, and not till dawn touched them did she open them again. That was the first time she had ever seen Mr. Dorian Gray- it was not the last, although she was a bit older when she next saw him.

**Gica (SilverFlover)- Thank you! I really loved your review, it was the absolute best I could have gotten! I'm glad you liked the way the outfits are described, I love Victorian-period dress. And in the book, Victoria is said to have a shrill laugh, so I'm trying to get it right.**


	3. Violet's lovely façade

_Disclaimer: Dorian Gray belongs to Oscar Wilde, and everyone else does, too, aside from Sara, Birgitt, and Violet- who I've based a bit on me, or at least, has many of my views._

It was spring, and luckily for Violet Larousse winter had passed without incident. Lord Henry had gone with Mr. Gray up to Algiers to pass the winter and although Lady Victoria had been found standing in the doorway of his room with her lips trembling slightly on several occasions, the woman had handled it very well. The most wonderful thing about the winter had also been the least wonderful for the young servant-girl. Violet had become acquainted with two other of the servants- neither of them a thing like her, but because they had been at the household longer than she, they were helpful in helping her to know her surroundings better. Their names were Sara Brigham and Birgitt Hampton, a pair of girls who were quick to count Violet Larousse among their friends, although she was not so eager.

Sara Brigham, a girl with mouse-like teeth and ears for gossip, had been there longer than any of the other servants, and even had been there before Lord Wotton had met Mr. Gray. She was several years older than Violet and seemed to think that, despite being much less mature than Violet, she had some sort of advantage over her. Birgitt Hampton was a slow girl with good intentions and dull cow eyes, and had a kind smile that charmed all the other maids and kept them from scolding her too badly whenever she broke anything. She followed Sara around most of their leisure time, which didn't cause too many problems, aside from the fact that Violet did not mind spending time near Birgitt, and minded spending time near Sara.

They were walking down the street during some leisure time, the three girls, and Sara was talking in an enthusiastic tone about the eligible young men that were invited to a party of Victoria's. Violet frowned as she spoke; it wasn't as though they were in any situation to take advantage of a young man's being unmarried. They were only poor servant girls.

They stopped by a carter and bought some food to eat as they walked- Birgitt and Sara got an orange to share, and Violet got a pomegranate, which she hadn't had any of for a few years and had almost forgotten quite what they tasted like. As they walked, Sara continued to talk.

"And you know there was that charming Adrian Singleton," she was saying in an animated tone. "Really a delight serving, always said his pleases and thank-yous just so nicely, believe he was invited by Dorian Gray…" Sara paused and took a bite of orange, a speck of juice landing upon her chin. She crudely wiped it off with the back of her hand. "Really like those fellows that Dorian Gray brings in."

Birgitt nodded solemnly, slowly sucking on an orange slice.

"Don't you think, Violet?"

"I try not to," she replied without paying the other girl any attention, popping a pip in between her lips.

Sara scowled, her teeth showing like crooked fence posts in need of painting. Violet sucked on the tender fruit silently, then swallowed and put another into her mouth.

"We should go back again, shouldn't we?" Violet suggested, her eyes moving up to the twilight sun with her rose-coloured carriage carrying her over the golden sea of sky.

"Yes, I suppose we'll be missed," said Birgitt blandly, speaking up, which surprised both Sara and Violet. Sara looked at her with slightly raised eyebrows, then sighed and said, "Yes, I think we'll go back now."

Violet smiled at Birgitt for having backed her up, and they all turned around and began to walk back.

It was one of those spring evenings that doesn't even seem real. The road home seemed to wind around and the plain stones were like the brilliant scales of some monstrous sea-serpent, and rather than really walking the long distance, the sea-serpent brought the three young ladies to their destination. The sunlight caught in Violet's eyes and made her blind momentarily; then she was able to see everything differently. There was glitter dust all over everything, filtering through the sunlight lazily as it poured from the sky. Violet Larousse, as she ate one by one the pomegranate pips, looked on the world in wonder, her eyes startled and taking the entire scene in as it appeared to her. Birds fluttered down from buildings as they walked by, making room for Violet as though she were a princess from the next world, the royalty that she seemed to be to those feathered courtiers as they perched in other places and watched her, beady eyes showing signs of curiosity. Who was she? The wind seemed to know the answer as it danced, laughing, through the lass' long dark hair, tangling it and braiding it without a care. The birds took to flight again and sang shrilly with the wind, asking as they sailed upon the breeze, "Who is she? who is she?" But the wind gave no reply, only the sound of a giggle that was like water trickling through a sieve; for as they approached Lord and Lady Henry's home, there was water trickling through the streets along the sidewalk, reminiscent of a previous day's rainfall.

Sara gave a little delighted shriek as they drew nearer, but Violet could not see why, and did not have the chance to ask her, for an older maid called, scolding, "Sara! Birgitt!" and they were forced to leave, for they did more of the hard work than Violet, who had more delicate fingers than they, and did the gentler tasks.

Violet walked over, and presently saw that Lord Henry Wotton stood out in front of the home with a young man, the carriage that had obviously taken them to the house driving away in the opposite direction. Someday, Violet thought, she would take that carriage out of there and not look back once; but had she been paying more attention to the gentlemen as she approached the house rather than the carriage, she would have preferred to stay. That was what Sara was delighted about, she realised after turning her eyes onto the sight.

"Ah, there you are," said Lord Henry. "Victoria was wondering."

_She was wondering about where you were, too_, Violet thought to herself stubbornly, but her eyes showed bright attentiveness alone. The maid curtsied. "Shall I go in?"

"Yes, do so…I must go in as well," said the older man languorously, looking at his watch. "If I do not find something to distract me soon enough, I shall go to the club on time, which would not do at all." As he walked up the steps and into his home, he called back behind him, "You must come in as well, Dorian," and was gone.

Violet looked, startled, to the young man who was left standing there, looking with a curious bemused smile on the recently shut door. He hadn't changed very much…but that was the charm of youth, it did not seem to change for a year or so, then vanished without a trace. His hair was ever the same gold, the wind blowing through the strands teasingly. Violet's lips were parted slightly as though to speak when he turned his cerulean eyes to hers. She did not speak, however, but continued to walk up the stairs and into the house.

"Violet, no?"

She stopped. She had not even reached the door. The young maid turned to the lad, who watched her with a faint curiosity. Her mouth opened, and then, independent of herself, said, "Yes."

The scarlet lips curved into a smile. "Yes, Violet…" He watched her for her reaction carefully. "The first Violet of the spring. And her eyes, too," he added. "Violet eyes."

Violet was not accustomed to being spoken to by so distinguished a gentleman.

"Violet Larousse," he mused. "An artistic name you have, Violet."

In her mind, the girl went over his own name. Each syllable was like some marvelous chord struck on a lute made by the Greek gods of ancient times. "Yours is as well," she said, choosing her words carefully. "Although I cannot understand the significance of your surname. You are far from Gray, with your cream-coloured skin and azure eyes." She felt immediately that she should not have said that, but he only laughed.

"My name does not have a duty to inform," was all he said.

"But it has the honour to do so," rejoined Violet.

"The honour?"

"Is the word against your liking?"

"The only honour one has is to oneself," came the reply listlessly as Dorian Gray put his hand up to the wall, leaning against it.

"This is not so," said Violet, clasping her hands together. The taste of the pomegranate, Persephone's bane, was still upon her tongue, and she cherished it. "I am a servant, sir, and know these things."

He watched her with his beautiful eyes, unmoved, for what seemed like an eternity to Violet, then his eyes flickered up to Lord Wonton's house.

"A lovely façade," he commented with a sigh akin to that of a visitor to a museum full of really wonderful art, or like that of one who has visited an old cemetery with the brilliantly decorated tombstones and tall marble angels. Violet glanced at the house as well. "You're right," she said politely. "Remarkable architecture."

Dorian Gray laughed lightly and looked at her. "I was talking about you."

She turned her head rapidly in surprise, her hair flying from around her face, to look at him with wide indigo eyes, her expression quizzical. Then the door opened from behind her and she looked back at it instead. Lord Henry stood in the doorway, looking out at them, amused by the sight of the two of them.

"Dorian?" he said, expectant. The youth's face did not betray any embarrassment, if he was at all embarrassed when he walked up to join the elder man. Violet also went inside, to join Lady Henry. Later that night, though, when Dorian Gray and Lord Henry Wotton left, she distinctly heard from her room where she listened, the door open by a sliver, the younger man say, "Harry, your maid is the most delightful girl to talk to…"

Then Violet shut the door to her room quietly and went to sleep a most dreamless sleep.


	4. Violet goes to new heights

_Disclaimer: Lord Henry Wotton, Basil Hallward, Victoria Wotton, and Dorian Gray all belong to that Lord of Letters, Oscar Wilde. May he find good cigarettes in heaven._

_Author's note: I'd like to thank Herbie McGuirefor her review- although Dorian is most certainly blonde, if you've seen LXg before reading the book I can see the difficulty there. It's not the lack of reviews that I'm discouraged by, more the fact that I know full well this isn't Oscar Wilde's style and I worry that I'm defiling the story. I know that people write differently know, so much less direct characterization, but really. Wilde is sacred! _

"He loves me..." came a whisper from a patch of exuberant flowers. Violet, having been sent into the garden to flush out the missing maids, swallowed a triumphant smile and inched closer. She could just make out a tuft of wispy blonde hair among the petals.  
"He loves me not..."  
"Oh, come now and stop being silly, Margaret, with your games," Violet said, smiling with a glint in her eye, cocking her head petulantly and folding her hands behind her back. The maid's head turned up and her startled eyes shone brightly.  
"Why did you call me Margaret?" the girl asked. "You know my name is Liesbet." Violet shook her head, suppressing a sigh. Little wonder she did not fit in. She was the only one who seemed to have read Goethe's _Faust_.  
"Never you mind. Lady Victoria is going to be leaving soon and her maids are to be inside."  
The maid stood and clutched her daisy to her breast. Her fingers strayed to another of the small number of petals on the stem.  
"Du holdes Himmelsangesicht," Violet said, her patience fraying. "Now don't keep the rest waiting."  
"Why are you still out here?" asked Liesbet, upset at having been interrupted.  
"I'm getting the rest of the maids inside, and I don't even know if I'm going out with her."  
"You usually do," said the impudent girl, who turned and stomped off like a small, pouting elephant. Violet watched her leave with contempt, and then spun on her heel and stalked off in search of the other two maids, whom she knew to be out there: Birgitt Hampton and Sara Brigham.  
Along the way she seized a few flowers of her own and began to braid them into her hair listlessly. They were simple and blue, but they would make her eyes all the lovelier. When she found herself doing that, though, she unraveled the hair in self-disgust. Braiding hair was for children. For wealthy children, in their leisure time. She was not a child herself; she was not wealthy. She was a young lady, a servant, she could not waste time worrying about her hair. She shouldn't waste time at all.  
It was not by scouring the plants and shrubbery that she found the girls, but high in the air. The pair of them were sitting up in a tree, and not just any tree, but a tree leaning over the wall. Violet knew what it was that they were watching from over that wall- Lord Henry had brought two guests and they were no doubt there, talking. Violet hated how they watched the young men from society like vultures, or jewelers. It made all the servants look bad, and her most of all.  
In a graceful rage, Violet walked over to the base of the tree and stood as high up on one of the roots as she could, then rapped on the trunk to get their attention. Birgitt was the first to see her, and gave a wide, slow smile that made her partially happier, and partially madder. Sara was completely intent on looking at whoever was beneath the tree's branches until Birgitt shook her slowly and she turned, then looked down at frowning Violet.  
"Violet," she said with a wide smile, her awkward teeth apparent, then motioned wildly for Violet to join her. The dark-haired maid stomped her foot impetuously. "I came out here to get you two," she hissed, wanting to remain unheard.  
Sara smiled, then glanced down at the gentlemen. "Then I say come up for us," said Sara with a sly wink. Violet's bad temper swelled up, but she knew it would be no use to get angry with them or to climb the tree. Birgitt looked down at her doubtfully, and took a step downwards, but Sara shot her a death glare and the girl withered.  
"Come down!" Violet spat with urgency.  
"Come up," said Sara simply, and turned back to the men. Violet, crushing the stems of the blue flowers in her fist, was nearly hopping in anger, but she refrained from the hopping and put her foot on rough bark, then reached her hands up for handholds, still holding the flowers. "I'm telling you," she whispered, shutting her pallid lids for a moment. "If I have to go up there, it won't be pretty."  
Sara just smiled at her benignly.  
Violet began to climb the tree, grumbling all the while. When she reached the top, Birgitt smiled at her brightly, her too-big lips stretched kindly. "Hi, Miss Violet," she said, reaching out her hand to help her up.  
Violet ignored the offer and knelt in the boughs beside Sara. "Now get down before I have to push you."  
Sara stifled a laugh and there was a voice from below.  
"You have quite a few birds in your tree today." It was a man, and Sarah grew white and covered her mouth so as not to make another sound.  
"I suppose Harry does, Basil," came the laughing voice of a youth. "And quite a few in his household. They all flock about his wife."  
Violet's eyes widened and she leaned forward almost independent of herself to see the speaker. She'd known it. She'd known it! Mr Dorian Gray, again. It couldn't be coincidence. Why was it always him?  
"All of them?" inquired Lord Henry- and Violet could imagine his eyebrow raised.  
"What do you mean?" asked this other man, Basil- Violet saw him as a cautious-looking gentleman with dark tangles of hair and dark eyes, a contrast to his two companions- the tall, eloquent and somewhat wide Lord Henry, and the graceful and lovely Dorian Gray.  
"Some of them seem to flock about Dorian," Lord Henry supplied, sounding amused. Sara stifled another mad giggle and Violet pulled her back, and whispered furiously into her ear, "You have to get down, now!"  
"The young maids?" asked this Basil fellow, sounding not at all approving, and somewhat alarmed. He sounded decent, but just a bit too prudent. Violet decided she liked him, although it was hardly fair for her that he looked upon maids as he did. She wanted to shout that she really wasn't like that, but it would have been highly foolish of her and so she held her tongue. "Is that right?"  
"No," laughed Dorian Gray. "Not all of the young maids. Some of them I just...seem to run into."  
Lord Henry was laughing, and Violet could safely assume that the other fellow with the dark hair was frowning again. Good for him, she thought. She'd be frowning too.  
"Dorian, you mustn't associate with girls of such low character," Basil said, sounding as though he were warning.  
Violet was completely indignant, but Birgitt and Sara were unaffected. The insult had not reached their ears. Their minds were elsewhere. How could they not despise the world into which they had been born? Didn't they want something better? "They would degrade your nature, make you...less than what you are. Dorian, you are so much. It wouldn't do for you to be thought less than highly of because of a tendency…kindness is a good thing, of course; but there is a line between kindness to a maid and…"  
"Oh, Basil," breathed the youth. "You think too much. It makes you too cautious and keeps you from being charming." He laughed at the look on his face. "Still, I am fond of you. But not all of Harry's maids are as you think. Some of them seem to be..." His voice faded and Lord Henry leaned toward him expectantly. So did Violet Larousse. She was so absorbed in his remarks that she did not notice the gleeful look on Sara's face.  
"...just a bit different."  
"Like whom?" Lord Henry asked, his voice holding more thoughtfulness than curiosity.  
"Well, do you remember that young girl I spoke to a few days before--?"  
There was a tremendous yelp and only confusion as Violet, pushed by Sara, crashed from the tree and fell through the air, into Dorian Gray's lap.  
Basil leaned backwards and Dorian seemed startled, and Lord Henry, while he was not slow to react and also moved away quickly, did not seem as surprised as thoughtful in his observation of the falling maid.  
No sooner had Violet landed, her apron in disarray and falling back over her face, than Sara and, prodded by Sara, Birgitt, had slid down from the tree unnoticed and made it look like they'd climbed over the wall.  
"Oh, Mr Gray," Sara simpered breathlessly, smoothing out her skirts and picking out leaves from her hair. "So sorry about Miss Violet-"  
Dorian and Violet looked at each other and she sprang up from him, brushing herself off hurriedly, cheeks burning crimson.  
Sara took the opportunity to give her a gloating look and continued with her breathy explanation to Dorian, her eyelashes fluttering furiously. "Birgitt and I were sent out to get her by Lady Victoria-"  
Violet spun around to stare at her. How dare she? Even Lady Wotton would be able to tell anyone that Violet had been sent to get them, not them to get her! Surely Lord Henry knew his wife would never have done things like that, that Violet was and had always been the better servant… Under Violet's silently outraged gaze, Sara faltered, just a bit, and hurriedly said, "Well, Mr Gray, we'll be off...Lord Henry..."  
Sara took Birgitt, who was looking off into the distance, by the elbow, and attempted to do the same for Violet, who took a step away from Sara and caused the girl to grasp only thin air and fumble a bit, and began to walk off. Violet followed them, still seething, hearing the conversation resume. The words 'Miss Violet' came up in the conversation and she bristled. There was something that needed to be done about _Miss_ Sara, or Violet was going to go mad in that place.


End file.
